


Desperate Measures

by yiffymorty



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Bed-Wetting, Blow Jobs, Desperation, Developing Relationship, Grandparent/Grandchild Incest, Humiliation, M/M, Masturbation, Underage Sex, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-25 22:04:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4978249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yiffymorty/pseuds/yiffymorty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damage to the mattress is minimal. Too bad the same can’t be said about Morty’s innocence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> OH BOY HERE I GO SINNING AGAIN
> 
> Thanks to [doctor-who-now](http://doctor-who-now.tumblr.com/) for proofreading!

Morty is jolted awake in the middle of the night by the dull ache of a very full bladder. The alarm clock says 3:36 AM. Morty groans; maybe if he lies here long enough, the urgent feeling will go away. It doesn’t, but he knows if he gets up to use the bathroom, he’ll never back to sleep. 

The pressure in Morty’s abdomen intensifies as the minutes tick by. The more urgent the need, the more frequently his muscles contract, reflexively clamping down on his urinary sphincters and sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout his body and eventually pooling in his groin. Morty rolls onto his back, trying to relieve some of the pressure, but movement only agitates his bladder. It dawns on him that he might not make it even if he darts for the bathroom now, and his fear is confirmed when a hot spurt soaks a hole through his boxers. Morty remembers many times when Rick would piss in empty bottles while flying the ship, and he curses himself for recently taking all the empty soda bottles out of his room. 

Morty squirms, squeezing his legs together and panting from the effort of keeping himself from pissing the bed like a goddamn baby. He whines at the thought and turns his head sideways, as if the pillow will absorb some of his shame because, despite his growing anxiety, Morty is desperately turned on. The boy had nearly peed his pants on several occasions throughout elementary school and his body never reacted like this. But right now, Morty doesn’t know whether he needs to cum or pee. It’s too hot; he’s burning up like he has a fever, sweat dripping down his forehead and stinging his eyes. 

It’s his curiosity that finally does him in, consequences be damned. Morty trails his fingertips down his torso, one hand resting on his abdomen and the other palming his semi-hard dick from inside his boxers. He gives it a firm squeeze, and at the same time he presses tentatively on his bladder and, oh, god. Morty throws his head back and hisses through his teeth as the pang of urgency resonates throughout his entire body. He jerks off to the frequent twinges of pain and pleasure—easing off when he gets too hard—and alongside the fear of being caught, Morty decides then and there that nothing compares to edging with an overfull bladder. 

Morty curses when he feels the liquid dribbling down his thighs and wetting a large spot under his butt. He moans and throws an arm over his closed eyes; even in complete darkness, his embarrassment is overwhelming. _What if Rick finds out?_ Morty winces; he doesn’t want to think about Rick right now, but he can practically hear his grandpa’s voice in his ear, mocking him endlessly for days. It shouldn’t be so hot, and that doesn’t help his situation one bit. 

This isn’t the first time Morty has fantasized about the old man while he masturbates. This time, he visualizes Rick walking in, seeing Morty writhing in bed, hopelessly turned on and drenched in piss. He wants Rick to tell him how disgusting he is, how only freaks get off on this kind of stuff, and how Rick is so disappointed in him. Morty moans softly and imagines that it’s Rick’s hands on him instead of his own. One presses on his bladder with increasing pressure while the other explores his groin. He visualizes those long, bony fingers dripping urine, and he just about loses it. Morty pulls his cock out into the open, one piss-and-precum slick hand pumping up and down the shaft. 

Eventually, his edging method exceeds effectiveness and Rick’s disembodied hands retire. The more he pees, the harder it is to stop the flow, and finally Morty gives in with a sob. He starts pissing at full force, soaking his boxers and quickly ruining his shirt. Morty’s stream arches from the tip of his cock with a sharp hiss, aiming so the hot liquid hits him square in the chest. As the warmth spreads over his shoulders and down his back, Morty pictures Rick standing above him, pissing down on his filthy grandson. He has to grit his teeth and hold his breath to keep from screaming; Morty can’t vocalize his pleasure at a reasonable volume, and he can’t guarantee it won’t be Rick’s name tearing through his vocal chords. 

The stream finally tapers off to a trickle. His chest heaves while Morty catches his breath, feeling his cock go soft and the tension in his groin uncoil. He lies there stunned and drooling and riding wave after wave of endorphins, but when his clothes turn cold and stick to his clammy skin, the gravity of the situation rears its head and slams Morty in the gut. If he lies here any longer, his pee will soak through to the mattress and then he’ll be fucked. 

The boy peels his trembling body from the bed and strips off his boxers, t-shirt, and the bedsheets. He throws on yesterday’s clothes and bolts through the dark house towards the laundry room, reeking of piss and praying that no one else is awake. Morty loads the washer —he cringes when the machine turns on—then drags himself to the bathroom. Christ, the kid needs a shower. It’s only 4:00 AM but since he’s awake for the day, he figures he might as well take one. 

Morty turns on the water as hot as it will go. He sits down in the tub under the shower spray with his eyes closed, hugging his shins and resting his head on his knees. He feels emotionally drained but more satisfied than cumming has made him feel in a long time; only now does he realize that he technically didn’t get off. While he washes himself, he idly wonders if he’s just damned himself to an eternity of pissing orgasms. Morty sighs, mentally checking another square off his personal Pervert Bingo. 

He stays in the shower until the water runs cold, then steps out and wraps himself in a large, fluffy towel. He’s about to go back to his room, but when he opens the door, he freezes. The real Rick is slouching against the wall facing the bathroom door. 

“It’s about time, M- _URRGH_ —Morty. The hell were you doing in there, taking the world’s largest dump?”

“Uh, s-something like that....yeah,” says Morty, defeatedly. He feels strangely self-aware about being naked under the towel, as if his dark secrets will be exposed. 

“Well, get ou- _EUURGH_ —outta here. I’ve been drinkin’ all night a-a-and I got—I-I gotta piss like a—like an alcoholic racehorse.”

If anyone asks, Morty’s cheeks are red from the hot water and definitely not the invasive imagery he gets when Rick alludes to the volume of liquid in his bladder. “S-sure thing, Rick,” he grumbles, pulling the towel tighter around himself. He shoulders past the old man and hurries back to his room. Morty throws a clean sheet haphazardly over his bed and flops on it. He lies face down, wishing he didn’t have to get up in two hours to get ready for school. At least damage to the mattress is minimal. Too bad the same can’t be said about Morty’s innocence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a humiliating accident, Morty can't keep his secret any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *SLAMS THIS DOWN ON THE TABLE* GOD this update took longer than I expected and I'm sorry
> 
> enjoy you fucking sinners ❤

Morty slouches at the breakfast table with bags under his eyes and his hair disheveled from lying down with wet hair. His stomach still hurts and he’s mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted. He looks just as ill as he feels. 

“You were out all night with Rick again, weren’t you? And on a school night, too,” accuses Jerry, speaking to Morty but glaring at Rick. Morty is about to protest that he wasn’t, but Rick steps in first, giving his whole spiel about how school is where stupid people go to waste time. 

“What could be more educational than a—than an intergalactic field trip?” asks Rick, facetiously, “I-I-I hate to point out the obvious, but look at whe-ERRRGH—where Earth school got you, _Jerry._ ” 

Jerry looks wounded. He opens his mouth but Beth puts her hand on his shoulder. “Just let him stay home, Jerry,” she says, and Jerry backs down. “Fine. Just don’t expect us to pay for your college tuition if you keep this up.”

“Shut the fuck up, Jerry,” barks Rick. That was a low blow, even by Rick’s standards. The conversation dies when Beth, Jerry and Summer get up to clear their plates and finish getting ready before rushing out the door. Rick doesn’t bother to wipe the smug look off his face. 

“Gee, thanks, Rick,” says Morty, his face alight, “Y-you really stuck it to my dad back there. Where are we going today?” 

“Nowhere,” Rick says, plainly, “We ain’t doing shit today, Morty! Y-you and me, we’re gonna sit on our asses and watch TV.” He goes into the living room and starts digging behind the couch cushions for the remote. 

“Seriously?” says Morty, “On a school day?!” 

“Ugh, shut up, Morty, y-you’re starting to sound like a Jerry. Besides, there’s a _Ballfondlers_ marathon on—can you honestly say that’s not worth staying home for?” Rick finds the remote and flips on the TV. 

“Jeez, fine,” sighs Morty, too tired to argue and infatuated with the old man to say no. “But, you know you can just, like—you can just rent them on-demand any time you want.” 

“Jesus, M- _OURGHH_ -orty, th-th-th-the fact that you feel you need to tell me how on-demand works is—it’s insulting.” After hitting the lights, Rick flops down on the couch. “If I knew I would be playing twenty questions over this, Morty, I would’ve sent your ass to school. Now, shut the hell up and go get snacks.” 

Morty obediently goes back to the kitchen, glad to have a moment to collect himself. He finally has Rick all to himself, but what if he can’t relax after taking his filthy obsession to the next level? He leans his forehead on the fridge door, spacing out while appreciating the cool surface against his hot skin. He only snaps out of it when Rick’s voice beckons him. Morty grabs some junk food and soda and returns to the living room. 

Rick is lying down and taking up the entire couch with his stupidly long body. He dumps the food on the coffee table and shoves Rick’s legs aside so he can sit down. When he does, Rick stretches his legs again and crosses them over Morty’s lap. “Oh, come on!” Morty complains, knowing the old man is just being obnoxious, but Rick shushes him and turns up the volume. Morty rests his forearms on Rick’s shins—he’s so _warm._ Morty’s heart strains, longing for the heavy pair of legs in his lap to have been Rick’s head. 

The two of them sit with their eyes glued to the TV, not wanting to miss one frame of the action. Morty has to admit, it doesn’t matter how many times he’s seen this show, it never gets old. But after two and a half hours into _Ballfondlers_ and three cans of soda, Morty feels the familiar pressure starting to build inside his bladder. Rick’s legs are like a deadweight in his lap. What if Morty strokes his sick little fantasy for a while? He knows he shouldn’t—he really, _really_ shouldn’t—but he reaches for another soda anyway. At the three and a half hour mark, Morty struggles to pay attention. He is slowly losing composure and soon he starts to fidget, shifting positions every couple of minutes. It’s the frequent tensing and un-tensing of Morty’s thighs that has Rick curiously side-eyeing him. 

“I know what you’re doing, Morty,” he says, “Not that I give a shit, I’m just putting it o- _OUGH_ -ut in the open. Makes things a lot less awkward for both of us.” 

Morty jumps at the sound of Rick’s voice, squeezing a few drops of urine out in the process. His stomach just about drops out his ass and through the floor. He knows Rick can feel him trembling. “I gotta pee so bad!” Morty wails, one hand darting between his legs as a sharp twinge of urgency sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through his entire body. His bladder threatens to overflow while he desperately rocks against his hand. 

“No shit,” smirks Rick, “What are you, six?” He swings his legs over the edge of the couch and sits up. He isn’t surprised when the boy tries to get up but falls back onto his seat with a whimper of defeat, unable to stand and hold it at the same time. 

“I-I can’t—I’m not gonna make it!” sobs Morty, his eyes stinging with tears. His abdominal muscles are still weak form this morning, so one more pang of desperation is enough to send a tiny stream dribbling down his thigh. Rick places what is meant to be a comforting hand on Morty’s shoulder, but the boy jumps at the sudden contact and forces out even more hot liquid. He stares in horror as a dark stain soaks through his jeans. Morty rocks back and forth, bent over with his arms wrapped around himself and his face contorted in distress. “This is so fucking embarrassing—please, Rick, do something.” 

“Wh-wh-what the hell am I supposed to do? Just go, Morty—j-j-just get it over with. You think I haven’t seen things grosser than your piss?”

“On the couch, Rick? Are you nuts?! I-I’m not gonna make a mess in th-th-the living room!”

“C’mon, Morty,” Rick murmurs into Morty’s ear, “Y-you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“I-I want to go,” wheezes Morty, “Bu-but I can’t, my muscles are all cramped and i-i-i-it won’t come out.”

“You’re that full, huh?” Rick teases, but his low, growly tone sends a chill down his spine. It’s the same voice, saying the same words, that Morty imagines when he masturbates. He takes a deep breath and tries with difficulty to relax. He gasps when his muscles spasm and then lock up again. 

“D’you trust me, Morty?” asks Rick, one hand hovering over Morty’s stomach. Morty nods, and Rick presses down on Morty’s tender abdomen, causing the boy to groan and dig his fingernails into Rick’s arm. 

“Good, Morty, thaaat’s it...” encourages Rick, wincing through the pain while he palms Morty’s stomach. 

Morty tries to push and a little comes out, but stage fright has his bladder on lockdown. His eyes dart from Rick to his own crotch, then back to Rick, who gives him an approving nod. “Y-y-you’re doing great, Morty.”

The praise on his grandpa’s lips has Morty’s head swimming with lust and affection; he almost doesn’t care that he’s pissing himself on the couch in his living room anymore. He lets out a shuddering wail and finally pulls his legs apart, jerking with every rapidly increasing spurt until he’s pissing non-stop. When the stream finally ebbs to a trickle, Morty’s pants are soaked to the knees. He sinks into the slippery wet couch, sweaty, panting, and stinking like urine. 

“Feel better?” asks Rick, and Morty can’t help being disappointed when Rick pulls his hand away. 

“No,” says Morty, covering his face with his hands, “I’m so fucking embarrassed, I-I-I-I can’t believe I just—I’m gonna die.”

“I-it’s alright, Morty, go clean yourself up. I’ll deal w-with—with your mess.”

Morty slinks off to the bathroom after stripping off his pants, the air wafting cooly on his bare legs. He washes up quickly and once he’s dressed again, shuffles back into the living room. He has half a mind to go to bed and hide forever, but decides that it’s best to be honest, no matter how embarrassing it is. Morty plops down on the couch and nervously rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, Rick, can I tell you—I-I gotta tell you something. That wasn’t really—th-that wasn’t an accident. I mean, it sorta was, but I kind of, uh....I like holding it in, y’know?” 

“I do know,” says Rick, unwittingly. He gulps down the rest of whatever was in a heavily tinted brown bottle. He looks up at Morty, wiping his mouth. Morty chokes on his own breath. The world starts spinning around him and the kid doesn’t realize he’s hyperventilating until Rick grabs his arm. “Morty!” Rick cries impatiently, “Get your shit together, Morty, it’s gu- _UUURGH_ —i-i-it’s gonna be okay.” 

“H-how could you tell?” pleads Morty. Even after all the embarrassing shit he’s done, Morty is certain that he’s never felt more humiliated in his life. 

“One, you’re not being ve- _EEEGH_ -ry subtle about it. Like, what, am-am-am-am I not supposed to notice, Morty? You’re—y-you were sitting right there. You think I wouldn’t notice you getting off right in front of me?”

“You know what, Rick? Maybe I w-w-w-wanted to get caught! I know I’m f-fucked up b-but you have no place to judge me, okay?” Morty glares at his lap, barely keeping his emotions under control. 

“Whoa, wh— _urrrrp!_ Take it easy, Morty. You didn’t let me finish. Y’know, your grandpa doesn’t settle for—for vanilla shit, either.” 

“Wh-what?” stammers Morty, “You’re not like, disgusted with me?”

Rick twists sideways to face him, flinging one arm over the back of the couch. “You got me all wrong, dawg. _Normalcy_ is a social construct, Morty, arbitrarily drawn by societies that used to drink their own unfiltered feces because they didn’t believe in bacteria. Now that’s fucked u- _hurrr_ -p Morty. I-i-i-if you want me to take you to—there’s an Earth dimension where all showers are _golden_ showers, Morty.” 

“F-fuck you, Rick, I know you’re just making stuff up now.”

Rick snorts; Morty can be so hopelessly naive that it’s kind of adorable. “S-so you’re the type that likes to hold it, huh?”

“Yeah,” admits Morty, bowing his head, “A-and I liked it when y-you pushed on my stomach and watched me piss myself.”

Rick stares at him, finally, _finally_ speechless. Morty holds his breath, waiting for Rick to get up, to leave, to never talk to or look at him again. “Jesus christ, Morty.” Rick’s voice is barely above a whisper. He can’t admit that he had liked it, too—talk about fucked up. If it were anyone but his underage grandson, he could roll with it. But that isn’t the case, and Rick is suddenly faced with the moral dilemma of choosing between preserving the kid’s innocence at the risk of breaking his grandson’s little heart, versus giving Morty what they both want very much. 

“I can’t do this shit with you, Morty,” says Rick, his voice obviously strained. The look of defeat on Morty’s face tugs at the old man’s heart. 

“I’ve wanted this so bad, I-I can’t stand it anymore!” cries Morty, his voice cracking. “I can’t even be around you without thinking about it—what it’s like—”

“Y-y-yeah, Morty, I—” Rick groans and scrubs his hands through his hair. “Me too. That’s why we can’t do this again.” 

Morty glares with an intensity that Rick has never seen before. “You wanna know what I was doing this morning? I pissed in my bed, Rick, and I was touching myself a-a-a-and thinking about you while I did it. How’s that for invasive imagery, huh?”

Rick’s cock stirs at that. He knows first-hand how good pissing himself feels, he’s been doing it for years. But he hates that he feels more than platonic love for his grandson. He hates how easy it is to break down and give in. He hates himself the most for what he’s about to do. 

“I’ll give you one more warning,” says Rick, his voice hoarse from a mouth gone dry. “One time is all it takes, and I will ruin you, Morty. If we do this, it-it’s not something I can use the—th-that I can undo.” 

“I don’t care, Rick. I’ve wanted this—I’ve wanted _you_ —f-for so f-f-fucking long. _Please,_ Rick. I know what I want, alright?” Before Rick has time to respond, the kid boldly leans forward and kisses him. It’s clumsy, off-aim, and it drives Rick wild. Morty gasps when the man kisses back with unbridled hunger. 

With gunshots blaring from the TV in the background, Rick tugs Morty closer and coaxes the kid’s tongue into his mouth. The boy moans into the kiss, obviously thrilled with this development. He climbs into Rick’s lap, facing him, his excitement accentuated by Rick’s hands coming to rest on Morty’s hips. The boy rocks forward until their chests are pressed together, and Rick’s breath hitches when he feels Morty’s erection against his belly. The idea that he can turn this kid on so much and so fast is terribly, sinfully arousing, and soon enough he knows Morty can feel his cock stiffen as well. 

“L-look at what you made me do,” Rick pants against his grandson’s lips. 

“W-w-we have about an hour before Summer gets home,” says Morty, glancing at the clock. 

“Y-yeah? What do you wanna do, Morty?” 

“I-is there enough time to—” the kid can’t bring himself to say it, so he wiggles his hips suggestively. 

“You tell me, M-Morty. You’re a budding teenager, i-i-it’s not like you’re gonna last long, anyway. Y-you can’t even ask me—tell me to _fuck_ you.” 

He feels Morty’s cock twitch at that. “Oh my god, Rick!” Morty whines. Rick smirks. 

“Y-you know, Morty, I haven’t pissed since this morning,” Rick cracks a devilish grin. “You need to get off my fucking stomach, Morty. We shouldn’t do this here.”

“F-fuck, Rick, can we—can we go to your room?” Morty asks, trembling with excitement. 

“Nah,” says Rick, “It’s gonna get real messy, M-Morty, so get your ass into the garage.”

Morty practically leaps off Rick’s lap, and from there it’s a literal race to the garage. 

He almost doesn’t believe this is really happening. This morning, he had been sure he would have to keep his disgusting secret to himself for the rest of his life, but even with all the embarrassment, it had been surprisingly easy; maybe all he ever needed to do was try. He doesn’t know what Rick is planning, but whatever it is, Morty wants to be a part of it. He wants it all, everything Rick is willing to give him, and more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually really proud of this chapter, I loved writing it and I'm so happy you guys like my fics! 
> 
> when will chapter 3 be done? aw heck I dunno, maybe in a year in a half or more ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick is gross and Morty gets what he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the is the final and grossest chapter! it is pretty gross even as far as watersports goes, lol oops
> 
> thanks again to [doctor-who-now](http://doctor-who-now.tumblr.com) for proofreading!

The second they arrive in the garage, Morty has Rick pinned against the wall, kissing him, all teeth and tongue. He grinds his erection into Rick’s thigh, moaning softly when he feels how hard Rick is. Morty’s hands travel down the old man’s torso and stop when they reach his abdomen. Rick feels almost swollen. 

“Oh man, Rick, you’re r-really full,” says Morty, grinning and not even trying to hide his excitement. He presses down lightly, but Rick’s breath hitches and he swats the hand away. “Knock it off, M- _OURGH_ -rty, y-you’re gonna make me piss myself—I bet y-y-y-you’d love that, huh? Sorry, Morty, I’ve got other plans for you this time.” 

Morty’s eyes light up. The fact that Rick took him to the garage—open space, cement floor—gives the kid a pretty good idea of what Rick has in mind. Without warning, Rick flips their positions so that Morty’s back is now against the wall. Rick kisses up the side of the boy’s neck and growls in his ear, “You wanna get pissed on, M-Morty?” 

“H-h-holy shit, yes, Rick!” pleads Morty. Rick’s voice sounds so fucking hot; Morty’s dreams are literally coming true. This is better than anything he’s dreamt or imagined, because it’s the real Rick standing in front of him this time, the real Rick who wants to do this to him— _with_ him. The kid has to focus on keeping his shit together, least he turns into a babbling pile of mush. 

He can’t help feeling submissive, though, especially when Rick’s strong hand closes around the back of his neck and steers him towards the middle of the garage. Once facing Morty again, he holds the kid by the shoulders and looks him in the eye. “I need you to promise me something, Morty,” he says, “Y-you gotta promise me you’ll speak up i-i-if you want me to stop or do something different, alright? Promise me, Morty.”

Morty nods enthusiastically. “O-of course, Rick, I promise.” 

“Good boy,” says Rick, that sultry tone returning to his voice. “Kneel down, Morty.”

Morty does as he is told. He sinks to his knees, but when he starts to take his shirt off, Rick stops him. “Keep it on. I want to—I-I’m gonna ruin your outfit, Morty.”

Morty shivers, breathing hard through his nose. “Can I at least take my dick out? I-I’m gonna fucking bust my zipper.”

“Go ahead,” says Rick, “But no touching.”

Morty nods and sighs in relief once he frees his erection. He looks up again to see Rick smirking down at him. “Impressive, Morty, y-y-you really do take after your grandpa.” 

As if to demonstrate, Rick unzips his own pants, revealing the massive bulge in his briefs. 

“Jeez, Rick! I didn’t know y-y-y-you were so fucking big,” Morty stammers in awe, “B-but I want to see it—sh-show me your cock, Rick.”

“Shiiit, dawg, you got a real dirty mouth on you,” says Rick, but his hands go for the waistband of his underwear and slowly peels them down. His cock bobs out, and Rick chuckles at the wide-eyed, hungry look on Morty’s face. “D’you like what you see, M-Morty? You want this cock? Y-you want your grandpa to soak you with his piss?” growls Rick, “Let me hear you say it.”

“O-oh man, I-I-I-I want it, I want you to p-piss on me, _grandpa Rick,_ ” He draws the last two words out, making them sound even filthier. Rick has to keep himself from groaning, but hearing his own name in that tone makes his cock throb. 

“Haha, Rick? A-are you....are you blushing?” Morty teases, watching the man turn even redder. 

“Sh-shu- _UGHH_ -t the hell up, Morty. Blushing is all you ever do, so c-cut me some slack.”

Morty snorts. Since when has it been so easy to rile him up? Even while kneeling obediently in front of him, Morty feels like he holds power over the old man in some roundabout way. Morty can feel his heartbeat pounding through his entire body, all of his cells aflame with anticipation. “S-so, you gonna do it, or what?” he says, impatiently. 

“Close your eyes, M-Morty,” says Rick, taking his cock in hand, “And k-leep your head up.”

Morty turns his face towards the ceiling, focusing on the amber glow the florescent lights make when they shine through the skin of his eyelids. For a few moments, the room is silent but for the ambient sounds of the garage. 

Morty starts to feel warmth spreading across his chest and realizes that Rick has started urinating. It quickly soaks his shirt and the splattering of liquid on wet clothes seems to echo throughout the room, along with the sound of Rick’s heavy breathing and the occasional whimper from Morty. Morty fights to keep his hands by his sides while Rick aims lower and lower until he’s pissing directly on Morty’s exposed cock. The boy gasps and vocalizes his appreciation, throwing his head back and arching up into the stream. 

Rick pisses a trail up Morty’s torso again, and the kid groans when the warmth returns to his already cooling chest. Judging from the forceful pressure in his, Rick isn’t nearly done, and he’s running out of dry places to aim. Morty realizes this; a grin blooms across his face. That’s the only warning Rick gets before the kid ducks his head under the stream. 

“Shit!” hisses Rick. His hands shake, and Morty fears that he might stop or try to aim somewhere else, but the hot liquid soaks Morty’s hair, trickles down his forehead and the back of his neck. Morty’s curls are soon a sopping mess, so there’s no reason why he shouldn’t go all the way. Fuck it, he decides, scrunching up his eyes and clamping his lips together. Morty takes a deep breath and raises his head so that Rick is now pissing right onto his face. He has actually grown to enjoy the stench of his own piss, but knowing that it’s Rick’s gives him reason to breathe in lungfuls of the intoxicating odor.

“ _Morty,_ ” growls Rick, arousal and disbelief both present in his voice, “Y-y-you should see yourself right now, Morty. I-I-I didn’t think you’d be such s-such a slut—such a piss slut. I-it’s a good look on you, M-Morty.” 

Morty basks in Rick’s praise, hanging onto every dirty word. He feels his orgasm starting to build up before he touches himself at all. He focuses on the hot coils while they continue to tighten in the pit of his stomach, trying to chase the feeling, to catch it, to ride it out—

Morty comes hard, his hips bucking wildly on their own, seeking contact that isn’t there. The orgasm rips through his body, his screaming muscles threatening to give out. Morty’s cock pulses rhythmically while he splatters the floor with his cum. He can’t see how much, but knows it has to have been a lot. 

“Fuck yeah, baby,” groans Rick, jerking his own cock a few times at the sight of Morty jizzing on the garage floor. 

Morty sits back on his heels, exhausted, wondering how much more Rick has left in him. His jaw has gone slack and, before he realizes what he’s doing, the kid lets his mouth hang open. Urine splashes onto his tongue, dribbles over his lips and down his chin. Morty spits and scrunches up his face at the bitter taste. “Not gonna drink it, huh, Morty?” Rick teases, but he lowers his aim. Morty shakes his head. He’s not sure he wants to do that....yet. Eventually, Rick’s stream tapers off and the two are left panting in the quiet garage. 

Morty wipes at his eyes but with wet hands, he only smears it around. Rick appears by his side with a damp rag to pat down Morty’s face with. Morty blinks until Rick’s concerned face comes into focus. “How was that?” asks Rick, running a hand through Morty’s piss-soaked hair. 

“F-fuh...fucking incredible,” rasps Morty, still weak from the sheer power of his orgasm. He wipes his face and neck clean and hands the stained rag back to Rick. “I never came like that before. I-I-I knew it was possible, b-but...”

“Yeah, Morty, it’s called a hands free orgasm. I _am_ pretty fucking incredible.”

“A-alright, Rick, but I think some of the credit goes to—” 

“Sh-shut up, Morty. I just made you cream yourself like a little bitch. A-a-a-are you a little bitch, M-Morty, or are you gonna return the favor? Y-you gonna suck my dick?” 

Morty nods eagerly. “I-I’m not a little bitch, y-you—you big asshole! Y-yeah, Rick, I am gonna suck your dick!”

“Good boy,” coos Rick. He stands, his cock swaying before Morty at eye level. The size of it is sort of intimidating—what if he can’t fit the whole thing in his mouth? Morty pushes himself to his knees and, with his hands on Rick’s hips, cautiously licks a stripe up the underside of the man’s cock. It still tastes faintly like pee, but the sound of Rick’s shaky breath above him encourages Morty to continue licking up and down the shaft. He puts his lips around the head of Rick’s cock and sucks gently, poking at the slit with his tongue. 

Rick groans and threads his fingers through Morty’s hair. He forms a tight grip on the boy’s head, but he doesn’t pull hard. He wishes he could drag this out, but when Morty boldly takes more of Rick’s cock into his mouth, the old man doesn’t think he can last long at all. Rick’s breathing speeds up significantly when Morty starts bobbing his head up and down. He wraps one hand around the base and massages Rick’s balls with the other. “Not bad, M-M-Morty,” pants Rick, “K-keep this up and you’re gonna make me cum.” 

Morty hums in appreciation, sending vibrations through Rick’s cock. Rick has to focus on keeping his hips from bucking and choking his grandson, but when his orgasm sneaks up on him, Rick has to tug Morty’s head back. He frantically jacks himself to completion. “G-gonna cum, Morty. Wh-where d’you want it?”

Morty looks up, meeting Rick’s gaze. He looks uncertain for a moment, but then the kid sticks his tongue out. That’s all Rick needs to see. “Y-y-you look like a f-f-fucking pornstar, M-Mor— _rrnnnngh!_ ”

Rick wobbles on shaky knees and Morty tightens his hold on the man’s hips. Rick’s vision blurs but he forces his eyes open to watch. He had tried to aim for Morty’s awaiting tongue, but his cum splatters across the kid’s face instead. Morty tips his head back, eyes closed and pink lips parted. Rick watches his own jizz cling to the boy’s eyelashes and drip down his cheeks. It seems endless, but Rick’s orgasm finally ebbs away. He sinks down to his knees besides Morty, not caring about the wet stains on his pants. 

Rick holds Morty in place with a hand on the back of his head, so Rick can lick his own cum off his grandson’s face. He kisses Morty deeply and moans, tasting himself on the Morty’s tongue. Rick lowers his head to rest on Morty’s shoulder and wraps his arms around him, pulling him close. “You—y-you’re a good kid, Morty, a real good kid...”

“R-Rick...?” starts Morty, uncertain, “This is nice and all, b-but I’m cold, and I feel gross, and my sister will be home soon, s-so...”

“Yeah, yeah,” mutters Rick, getting to his feet and pulling Morty up by the hand. “Let’s get you outta these wet clothes. You stink.” Without warning, Rick scoops Morty into his arms, one hand under his knees and the other supporting his back. He ignores Morty’s protests—”I-I-I can walk, you know!”—and carries the boy upstairs. 

Once showered and changed, Morty finds Rick in his bedroom, sitting on his cot with his gaze fixed on the wall. Morty climbs in and sits next to him, leaning his weight into the older man and nuzzling affectionately under his jaw. 

“M-Morty, I—” Rick starts, but Morty shushes him. 

“Don’t say anything,” he says, “I-if you’re gonna apologize or something, j-just—just don’t.”

Rick leans his head atop Morty’s damp, clean hair. “I wasn’t going to, Morty—y-you’re being a little bitch—y-you’re going to kill the mood with your—with your little bitching.” 

Morty elbows him in the side, then laughs and kisses Rick’s cheek. “Thanks, Rick,” he says quietly, earnestly. Rick just hums contentedly, too tired to wonder if he had done the right thing, too exhausted to feel bad about his decision. Or maybe the guilt he expected just isn’t there at all. 

They stay like this, sitting side by side in Rick’s dimly lit room, just listening for the sound of the front door, for footsteps, for a car door slam. As much as Morty dreads it, they will have to go back to acting “normal” for a few hours. But Morty knows—and he knows Rick must, too—that he’ll be right back in here after the rest of the family has gone to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys so much for bearing with me! updating on a schedule is not a thing I can do like, at all. And I mean, you should be thanking me for not making you wait a year and a half or longer, but, y'know.
> 
> I can't believe how many wonderful messages I got asking when the next chapter would be, scolding me for converting them to the pee side. you guys are great, seriously. 
> 
> I think y'all should know by now that I'm [yiffymorty](http://yiffymorty.tumblr.com) on tumblr, and I'm accepting ideas/AUs/headcanons in my inbox!

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2 is like, 97% finished so it should be up soon!
> 
> I'm on tumblr @ [yiffymorty](http://yiffymorty.tumblr.com) c:


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